Secret Talk
by Ammom
Summary: A new forum for posting secrets between the Gardens raises a buzz. Four years after Ultimecia's end, the SeeDs have nothing to do, and split apart. Squall looks for a new purpose, and two men upon chance meeting, find a connection. Reviews returned.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Since the basis of this story is about a forum, each chapter is known as a "thread", and the title of the thread is the title of the chapter. Rather nifty and different I think. :) Reviews are returned, enjoy! Everything will be explained shortly. _- Ammom_

* * *

**THREAD ONE**

**New Start**

-

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 13th, June **

Yay, I've made the first secret post! ☺

I guess I'll start by saying that one of my secrets that I've never ever told anyone is that I keep a moonstone beneath my pillow.

_**- HopelessLover-to-All**_

* * *

Darkness is a silent wonder. Anything could hide comfortably within it, going untouched and unseen, unwanted. Except for light. Light could be seen just as well as darkness could be hidden. And yet, neither is sure or balanced. There is always a favorite, and it is never pure, as is proven by the yin yang circle. 

Within the side of darkness there is a twinkle of light, and within the light rests the inkling of darkness. In both cases the spots are bright and noticeable, vivid and clear, but often overlooked. Is the person the spot, or the area that surrounds it?

Sure enough, the moment that this question passed through his mind, Squall knew the answer; he was the darkness, covering all that he could grasp. There was a need for power and control, as he fumbled absentmindedly around, tripping on an unseen floor. He reached his hands out to grasp something, perhaps a railing or a wall, but his arms just spread into the darkness, neither stirring nor parting it.

Fool is the one who believes darkness is blindness.

Trying to clear his mind and slow his breathing, Squall bent down shakily, pressing an ear to the floor. He could hear nothing, and the touch was cool, sending a shiver up his temple. Lifting his head from the floor, Squall peered down, but saw nothing. His vision showed slight distinctions of an inclining slope, but nothing more.

Taking a deep breath, the youth sat back and waited. The minutes stretched by as Squall counted down from two-hundred and fifty-five, and sure enough, as he hit "one", the sound of a great light being turned on sounded from overhead as he arched his neck back. Above, the circular roof rested, illumined by an eerie blue-black, showing the stars and the freedom that Squall longed for every time he saw them. Reaching his hands up feebly, as if to grasp the golden roof beams and swing himself up and through the glass to the night sky, the man's fingers fumbled freely in the air for a few moments before Squall let them drop hopelessly into his lap.

For a few moments, the youth sat there, and stared up with a pained, longing look. But as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, it passed back into its natural solemn appeal. The ballroom, left and right seemingly stretching on forever, was faintly illumined with its detailed engraved pillars, and silk draped curtains. Raising his gaze now, Squall stared up at the stars, and the one staring right back, gave a vivid, red glow. Tearing his eyes from it steadily, he peered into the illumined darkness.

From through the blue stained glass above, starlight washed down eerily, and he could make out the distinct curved back of a woman, with long hair trailing over narrow shoulders. She was set as a hard worked, stone statue; immovable and straight, perfect from every strand of hair to the curves of her long dress and leather boots, standing just on the other side of the circular raised platform resting directly beneath the opening above.

Squall held his breath, afraid of what would happen; afraid of what had happened all the other times he'd seen her. His lungs bulged and his chest heaved as air fought its way out. As soon as he released the breath, it carried over to the statue, stirring the immovable hair as the woman came to life.

Swallowing hard as the she shifted slightly at being disturbed, the woman slowly turned to him; face in shadow, and arm raised hesitantly before her. Standing still for a moment as she peered at him with mouth slightly parted, he knew that she was just as surprised as he was. But then her lips curved into a warm smile as she lowered her hand, soundlessly swaying her way over to stand on the edge of the circular platform.

Speechless and fearful, Squall stepped forward as well. The mysterious woman's smile broadened, and her peaceful voice echoed distinctly as she said softly, hand raised half disbelievingly to play with a lock of hair, "You came…"

Squall opened his mouth to say something, anything. He wanted to warn her of the trouble and danger he knew was present, but no words reached his lips. His vision swayed before him as the smiling woman became a blur. Squall tried to remain steady, feeling that the floor had changed. Glancing back, he saw the quick drop that waited for him below into dark waters.

Unable to maintain balance, Squall tripped back, caught by the railing. He slid onto the stone platform, head spinning and stomach uneasy as perspiration seeped down to sting his eyes. The woman, whose face he struggled so hard to see, stepped over the raised point of the platform to him, reaching a hand out in concern.

Knowing what was happening, Squall opened his mouth to warn her, but his tongue was thick and moved around uselessly. He raised a hand to pull her towards him, but the sound of an unsheathing sword and light footsteps told him it was too late.

Squall stared in disbelief at the woman, standing stock still with a long, thin blade protruding from an opened stomach. A sense of defeat, fear, and pain washed over him as the sword was withdrawn, and a murderous laugh sent shivers down his spine. The woman was trembling horribly now.

From her lips words echoed softly, "My cloud…"

As he blinked, the woman before him suddenly changed and Squall's vision cleared. Instead of the mysterious stranger, it was a familiar face. What he had been dreading, what he had been hoping wouldn't happen, now became very real as the figure fell towards him.

The last thing Squall saw was a wave of black, before he snapped up suddenly, back in his bed. Breathing heavily, mind racing, he looked half blindly around at the unfamiliar walls and covers, to the burrow and door that stood just a few feet away. Breathing slowing, and pulse lightening as he began to recover, Squall wiped heavy drops of sweat from his forehead, wincing as his soaked bangs grazed his eyes.

Every inch of the dream had seemed so real and vivid. Flashes of the last part kept passing in his mind, replaying again and again till Squall pulled out his dripping pillow and screamed into it.

When the muffled sound died down from his aching throat, the youth slowly lowered it to his lap, taking in deep breaths as he repeatedly told himself it was just a dream.

No, Squall thought firmly. Not a dream, a nightmare. Dreams are inclined towards something, and this will not be a dream.

Though it calmed him enough to open his eyes, Squall didn't feel very reassured. Setting his pillow back down with a disgruntled curse, he tried to plump it back up ineffectively before leaning back and crossing one arm behind his head.

Long moments stretched by, bed covers entangled in his long legs, as Squall stared up at the dark ceiling above. Moonlight poured in from the window, and looking over at his alarm clock on his nightstand showed that it was five-thirty. He still had a few more hours to go.

However, sleep didn't seem probable, and after laying there for twenty minutes of false hope, Squall untangled himself, and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

* * *

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 14th, June**

_To: HopelessLover-to-All_

I'm not really sure how I see that is a secret not to tell anyone. I mean, I don't understand how having a moonstone beneath your pillow does anything. I'd be more afraid of posting it on a forum then telling people. Sounds more like you're just looking for attention. I suggest you look somewhere else.

**_- PrettyPrice_**

* * *

The day went on as normal. Students shuffled down the white halls and carefully chiseled steps to sit in the courtyard or cafeteria till classes begin. Laughter and the prospect of parties hung in the air as plans were happily discussed and negotiated for the upcoming weekend. Children ran the lengths of the rooms, playing games and calling loudly back and forth to one another. 

It was the prospect of a brilliant day.

Everything went on around him as normal, and no one paid Squall more than a second glance. A blonde girl with her hair in a ponytail waved at him as he passed, talking happily with one of her friends. Squall inclined a nod, recognizing Gina as one of Rinoa's many friends.

The thought of Rinoa disgruntled the youth, and shifting uncomfortably as he strode out onto the courtyard path, he had to step awkwardly around a group of kids to avoid tripping over them. Squall stared after their retreating backs as they spoke quickly, skipping excitedly. He watched them until they disappeared around a corner, his own vague memories peeling before his eyes.

Blinking and breaking the gaze, images gone, Squall turned, and placing hands in his jacket pockets strode with hunched shoulders for a few feet before pausing to sketch the length of the east side courtyard. It stretched back behind a wall and out of sight.

Since Balamb Garden had been grounded three years previous, many additions to the facility had been made. Due to construction, it hadn't been lifted into the air since. This had greatly disgruntled the students, who had loved the thrill of travel in the place they'd come to call home.

It's my home too, Squall thought flatly, watching students stand and start leaving for classes as the bell rang clearly.

Teenagers passed by the older man without a glance, giving no thought to why he stood there. Squall remained still, meeting no one's eyes. He felt like he was standing in the ocean, trying to not get caught up in the waves with all the others.

Life here was too simple and casual. The headmaster and his students had grown soft. Everything Squall had been taught for ten years now was a waste of time. There were no rising sorceresses, and he'd freed the last of them.

For four years Squall had stood aside quietly as he watched his life change around him, and not even by his own actions. It was as if he were incapable of handling his own fate anymore. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't going to continue any longer.

Turning as the last of the students headed up the staircase, Squall followed after them. He knew that fighting the current when he was weak would only make it harder to fight later.

* * *

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 14th, June**

_To: HopelessLover-to-All_

HL, I understand why you may not explain this. Not many who know of superstitions believe in them. Though I don't quite believe it myself, I understand why nonetheless, this was a secret for you.

**_- LeighD_**

* * *

Taking deep breaths, and careful sure steps with her binder pressed tightly underneath her arm, Quistis Trepe, dressed in a pressed, gray uniform, and golden blonde hair held back in a tight bun, was the site of an ideal instructor. Her knee-high booted feet paused hesitantly before the automatic door as it whined lightly open. She stepped back hesitantly, inhaling deeply as she took in the tops of new heads. 

Straightening her shoulders, Quistis held her head high as she strode in, surveying the room, taking note of empty seats and busy mouths. Standing there for a moment, she waited for everyone to settle, and when they didn't, had to fight the urge to command them to. Instead, the young woman strode behind her desk, slamming her binder down, and clearing a pinched throat.

Immediately all talking ceased as twenty-one pairs of eyes turned her way. An awkward moment passed before Quistis placed her hands before her on the desk, saying as she scanned the room, "Hello, I am your instructor for this course, and may I be the first to welcome you to Balamb Garden, and your first class, History Ethics." There were a few groans, and several shared uncertain looks. Only two students she noticed, a girl sitting at the front, and a boy in the middle, gave no reaction.

Intrigued by this, Quistis straightened herself, and loosening her shoulders, cleared her scratchy throat again. More confident this time, she looked at her newfound, uncertain students, saying, "You will find as you progress through this class, what the immoral mistakes of past dictators have either benefited them…" She paused here for effect, observing the waiting faces. "Or consequently, destroyed both them and their reputation."

Almost immediately a hand shot up, as Quistis had expected. It was the girl in the front, who's posture caught the instructor's attention. She sat with back straight and head high. Long, brown curls were displayed evenly over her shoulders.

Nodding towards her, Quistis prompted politely, "Yes?"

Lowering her hand, the student stated in a dignified manner, "No great accomplishment, man or woman, came from immoral actions."

"Oh?" questioned an intrigued Quistis, raising an eyebrow at the daring student. "How so?"

"For instance," she continued confidently. There was an echoed groan from the other students, some shifting away altogether.

Turning to the rest of her class, Quistis stated quickly, "No, no, no…let's hear what Ms…" Looking at her seating chart resting on the desk, she added, "Fawt, has to say."

"Actually," stated the youth, holding up her index finger to put a pause in the discussion. "It's Mrs." If she noticed the questioning and surprised looks of her instructor and fellow classmates, the girl didn't show it. Hesitantly, she added, "My name is Tara."

Quistis nodded slowly, justifying this piece of information. This girl, who appeared no older than sixteen, claimed to be married. Truthfully, Quistis hadn't gone through the students' records, feeling it an invasion of privacy. She made a mental note to look up Tara Fawt later.

Ignoring the questioning looks her students were giving her, as if expecting their teacher to confirm this piece of information, Quistis stated, "I can see your point, Tara." Clearing her throat, she added, "However, are you saying that President Deling is unfit to rule Deling City then?"

Tara gave her a confused look, and pleased by this, Quistis continued on dramatically, "Because from last I've heard, his loyalty has been in question. Some say he's taken up affairs with both Galbadia and Esthar, who don't seem to be seeing eye to eye at the moment."

Quistis allowed her students their shocked looks and hushed comments for a minute, before holding up her hand to silence them. Quiet fell over the room, and now the teacher turned to Tara in expectation.

Chewing over this piece of new information, the girl sat thoughtfully. Choosing her words carefully, Tara stated, "It is true that there have been rumors, but nothing's been confirmed."

Quistis nodded, saying, "And so we'll wait and see." She turned and started their lesson, noticing the class slowly becoming more involved as topics that included or affected them came into the picture.

Hearing her students discuss and debate gave Quistis a satisfying glow, as she sat and listened carefully to their words. When she had first stepped into the class, the teacher had been nervous, even fearful at what these Galbadian transfer students would be like. Balamb Garden had grown through the years, and though it filled her with a sense of pride, Quistis also felt fearful that she'd be left behind.

Despite her high IQ and past experience now with working with people around her age, the young teacher still felt that she was easily replaceable, and with graduated students becoming instructors, as much as she didn't want to admit it, Quistis didn't feel like the "Honored One" anymore.

Suppressing these thoughts for now, Quistis told herself that nothing had changed. She'd been teaching for five years now, and that couldn't be just thrown away.

She hoped.

* * *

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 14th, June**

_To: HopelessLover-to-All_

Ahh, the whole "moonstone under the pillow". Supposed to ward off bad dreams. Interesting secret…

**_- Baded_**

* * *

The sun shone brightly above, stretching out across the streets to bathe the citizens in a warm glow. But on the doorstep of a two-story, large home, beneath a low-hanging roof, a figure stood rigidly, untouched by this warmth. A sign above stated "Tifa's Seventh Heaven", with a beer bottle lit up beside the words. 

Lost deeply in his mind, the man gave no consideration to what lay around him, or the people who walked carelessly past on the streets, lost in their own thoughts and conversations.

The world still goes on, even when I'm still stuck here, in the past…

"Cloud?" called a gentle voice.

Opening his eyes suddenly and snapping up his head, he looked into the pure green iris of a small boy, standing and watching him with a worried look. Cloud waited a moment before slowly striding forward, wincing at the brightness of the sun. Standing before the waiting boy, Cloud's eyes passed over at the man and woman waiting back a few feet. Tifa stood at the side, watching this scene carefully and respectfully. No one paid them any mind, striding down the streets and sidewalks, pausing as they waited to cross.

Looking down into those pure eyes, Cloud grimaced slightly before crouching down so he was level with the boy. "Alec," he began slowly, then cut off, at a lost for words. Lifting his gaze to the people beyond the boy's head for a moment, Cloud lowered it back to the orphan. Resting his hands on Alec's shoulders, in what he hoped was a comforting way, he told the boy quietly, "These people will take good care of you."

After a moment the boy nodded his head as a smile formed on his lips. Cloud returned the nod, but the smile fluttered away so quickly that Alec wasn't sure he had even seen it.

Tifa strode slowly over to them, laying a hand on Alec's shoulder as Cloud straightened to his feet. Stepping back, the man watched as Tifa steered the boy away to his new waiting parents.

It seemed as if everyone of late was leaving. Many of the orphans that Cloud and Tifa had cared for during the past four years had left, and as each bed emptied, so did a part of his heart.

"There he goes."

Cloud snapped to attention at Tifa's soft voice, watching with a thoughtful smile as Alec was led away by his new family. Watching them for a moment, Cloud replied with a, "Mm," before turning and heading back for the house.

Turning in surprise at her friend's lack of discussion on this, Tifa called, "Cloud!"

The man paused on the doorstep; hand on the doorknob of the wooden structure. Still he didn't turn to her. He didn't want to risk Tifa looking through his calm exterior to the part of him that hurt inside.

When Cloud didn't say anything, the woman prompted, "Cloud, what is the matter with you? You're not yourself."

"It's nothing," he mumbled in reply.

Turning the knob as the door opened, Cloud stopped as Tifa strode briskly over to him. Standing beside the doorstep, looking up at him pleadingly, she asked kindly, "Cloud, please, talk to me." Shaking her head, she stated flatly, "Please don't do this again, where you just walk away."

Cloud hesitated a moment, hand still on the doorknob as he considered telling her. He wanted to tell Tifa about the depression and loneliness that had kicked in over the years. He wanted to tell her that he was afraid about losing everyone, afraid of what would happen this time, after what had happened two years ago.

Instead Cloud closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before thrusting open the door, and striding in. Expecting to hear it bang shut behind him like so many times before when he'd walked off, Cloud turned in surprise when it didn't. Tifa stood, hand pushing the door back, as she stared at her childhood friend with a dark look.

"Cloud," she began, but he caught her off, already heading past the bar and towards the stairs. "Cloud!"

Ignoring the call, Cloud tried to control his rising emotions. His anger at Tifa's persistence also gave him a fluttering feeling at the prospect of maybe getting how he was feeling out. But he was convinced that she wouldn't understand.

"Just forget it," he muttered, stopping with one foot on the bottom step, hand resting for support on the doorframe. "It doesn't matter…"

"Don't give me that!" Tifa snapped, striding forward angrily. Resting a hand on his shoulder firmly, she added, "You always—"

Shrugging off her hand roughly, Cloud strode up the steps, drowning out her rant about two years ago as he buckled up one of his thinner buster swords, and shifting it comfortably onto his belt.

"Just because you couldn't save one person, you have to—"

At this, Cloud snapped. Turning to Tifa angrily, he told her quietly, "You don't understand a thing about how I feel. So before you continue your preaching, think about what you have to lose." Ignoring the hurt and shocked look on his friend's face, Cloud picked up a sealed, wooden box. Placing it beneath his arm, he pushed past a silent Tifa, mumbling, "I have more important things to do."

* * *

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 15th, June**

_To: Baded, LeighD, PrettyPrice_

Thank all of you for your kind, and somewhat hurtful, words. I know this secret may not seem that important, but it is to me. My nightmares have become so intense that I'm willing to try anything at this point…

**_- HopelessLover-to-All_**

* * *

The same dream, the same woman, the same ending. 

Squall woke up that day, shaky and unsettled. The nightmare had come again, and despite his drastic efforts to see more, to do something different, it had all been the same. When he saw the woman step forward, come to life, there was so much he had wanted to say. Squall had even gone to bed repeating the words again and again in his head as he fell asleep. But when he saw her, and opened his mouth, they fluttered off on invisible wings.

Now, sitting hunched in his bed, as his shoulders trembled painfully, Squall tried to gather his wits about him. He looked over at his nightstand, seeing that he still had another hour to go.

Maybe I should inform the headmaster, he thought.

Then, discarding this, he got up and showered before dressing into a pair of jeans and a white shirt, looping his chains around the back to the opposite sides. It was too hot both outside and inside for his normal dark attire. However, he still pulled on his leather gloves, and swept over his silver necklace, its chain cold against his clammy skin.

Sweeping through his locks of brunette hair real quick with a comb, Squall threw it down on his burrow and strode through the door as it slid open.

The youth paused, looking down either end of the long, white hallway. There were a few muffled movements, but no life emerged. Preferring the quiet, he strode through the automatic doors and down more stairs and hallways till he reached ground level. Here, Squall paused for a moment, watching a few students drift about.

Stepping lightly down the stairs, he strode briskly out to the Garden Circle that led to the other areas. This too had been expanded and widened, and blocked off areas showed evidence that it was still being worked on.

Heading right, and past the benches where a disgruntled student lay with his head propped back in sluggish sleep, Squall strode towards the stairs. Halfway up them towards the elevator, he heard a familiar voice call snidely, "What's the matter, Squall? Sad your play thing's out?"

Face flushed, Squall whipped around, but calmed down at the smirk spread across Seifer's chiseled features. Seifer had intended the comment towards Squall's girlfriend, Rinoa, who had once dated him. The two had always been rivals, him and Seifer.

It's strange that it feels so long ago, Squall thought, realizing that it had been four years now. Even so, Seifer remained his childish, proud, and rude old self.

Ignoring the comment, Squall told him, "I'm heading up to speak with the headmaster." Seifer snorted at his words.

"That old fart?" Seifer confirmed. "Why waste your time with him? He'll just give you shit."

Raising an eyebrow at him, Squall prompted, "He told you off?"

Shrugging his shoulders a bit too carelessly, Seifer replied, "We had a disruptive negotiation." At the slow smirk spreading across Squall's handsome features, Seifer gave a disgusted scoff. Without another word, he stomped away angrily, and was gone with a sweep of his gray trench coat.

For a minute, Squall stood watching where Seifer had disappeared. Four years ago, Seifer would have challenged him. Had Seifer really changed that much too? Or was it because Fuijin and Raijin weren't there to back him? The surprising news of Seifer's lackies hooking up seemed to have hit the troublemaker hard.

Shaking his head, clearing it of the intruding thoughts, Squall pressed the button on the glass sealed elevator. A moment later, he was heading up, using his SeeD card to access the headmaster's floor. The youth's heart beat hard against his chest as he realized that he wasn't sure what he was going to say. The headmaster was a jolly, good-natured man who remained busied by the Garden's new intentions.

Stepping into the small, bronze walled room, Squall gave a moment's notice to the beautiful gold embroidered, red flags hanging from the walls. On them was the sign of SeeD – a sign that Squall's mind could barely form itself.

The headmaster sat behind his desk, now set before the platform that rose into the Garden's mobile control center. He paid Squall no mind, jaw resting on a gnarled, bony hand as he stared at some papers on his desk. Stepping forward slowly, the youth waited, trying to pick the right formal words to address the aging man.

Sighing and yawning, Cid raised his eyes over the rim of his square glasses. Raising his head, he gave a wide, friendly smile to his guest, saying, "Ahh, Squall! I didn't see you there." Gesturing towards some chairs resting against the wall, he added, "Please, sit."

Raising his hand, the youth replied, "That's all right, Headmaster. I just came to speak with you for a moment."

Settling back into his soft cushioned, office chair, hands folded on his potbelly, Cid asked, "Well then, what can I do for you?"

Clearing his throat, and straightening some, but not meeting the man's eyes, Squall stated confidently, "Sir, if you have noticed, the SeeD group hasn't been receiving any missions for months now."

Sighing, smile fading as he took off his glasses and began rubbing at his eyelids tiredly, the headmaster muttered, "I knew you would come to me about this eventually, Squall." Heated slightly by this statement, Squall tensed as he struggled to keep his mouth firmly closed. Cid replaced his glasses, and resting his hands on his polished, sycamore desk, pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. Looking at the ex-SeeD straight-faced now, Cid told him firmly, "There are no more sorceresses who—"

"I know, Headmaster," Squall jutted in a bit snappishly. Trying to calm the rising anger in him, he added more calmly, "But there is nothing here for me."

Grimacing, Cid nodded slowly in recognition, playing with this thought. The SeeD group had recently been drifting away he knew. Squall was feeling left out, and though he had always been labeled as a loner, he didn't wish to leave the Garden.

Pondering over this for a moment, the headmaster rubbed his chin in thought for a minute before lowering his arm to behind his back, saying, "Very well then. Squall, if you are so concerned with the SeeD group, perhaps you should consider training new individuals."

The youth blinked hard at the headmaster for a moment before saying, "But Sir, with no purpose—"

Holding up his hand to stall the flabbergasted and baffled man, Cid interjected softly, "I will find a new and profound purpose for the SeeD group. The Garden does still need funds. Now, I will have Xu come find you once I have the matter settled."

The headmaster turned his back, proclaiming the discussion over. For a moment, all Squall could do was stare at the aging man's baldhead. Scoffing, the youth turned and stormed towards the elevator. This wasn't what he had in mind, but at least something was going to be done. He could negotiate further once plans were put into action. He still had to wait though, which is what bothered Squall the most.

* * *

**POST: ****New Start **** DATE: 15th, June**

_To: Everyone_

Discussion ended, thread closed.

_**- Admin**_


End file.
